


An Unexpected Visit

by great_turkey_calamity



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Hospital, Illnesses, M/M, NOT SAD, Not Beta Read, Sickfic, alex is stressy, henry is severely anemic, pez doesn’t know how to comfort sick people, shaan is a mother hen, someone help henry this lad is a mess, someone help this boy, tw:emetophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26620255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_turkey_calamity/pseuds/great_turkey_calamity
Summary: Henry is rushed to the hospital after fainting and having chest pains. Pez and Alex are by his side.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 14
Kudos: 184





	An Unexpected Visit

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone’s writing hospital fics so I wrote one too lmaoo
> 
> TW for emetophobia/depictions of vomiting
> 
> Happy Reading!!

“So, when can we go back home?” Henry asks as Alex walks back in the room from talking to the nurse. His head is pounding, his vision is still spotty, and the thought of the IV in his arm is making him positively queasy. He’s sat in a chair by one of the windows, Pez in the one on his left side, letting him stroke his hair, having given up after several minutes of bickering and protest.   
  


Alex shuts the door, moving over to the sink to wash his hands with the antibacterial soap. “They don’t know yet,” He claims, turning on the faucet and lathering his hands with white foam. “They think it’s anemia, but they’re still running tests to see if it could be anything else. Don’t wanna just let you go, in case it’s something real serious.” He explains, moving across the room to sit next to Henry.

“Wouldn’t surprise me, with those ‘strong’ Windsor genetics.” Pez teases, and Henry snorts, laying his head on his shoulder.

“ _Haha_ , another incest joke. You should really get your own Netflix stand up special.” He sneers.

Pez tuts. “I most certainly will _not_ be tolerating attitude from you, Henry. How unbecoming of a young man.”

“I’ll be showing you unbecoming in just a moment if you keep those shite jokes up.” He quips, and for the first time all day, Alex laughs.

“What’s got you so cranky?” He asks, taking Henry’s freezing, trembling hand in his own, kneading at the skin to try and generate some warmth. Henry’s been freezing all day, chill-bumps covering every inch of skin and trembling in and off for hours. He’s just glad that he can breathe now, and that his chest pains have gone away.

“I’ve got a headache and there’s a damn _needle_ in my arm, sorry for not keeping up with pleasantries.”

“If you don’t like headaches and big needles, you should just stop being anemic.”

“Pez, if _you_ don’t stop, I am going to cry, and make you feel as uncomfortable and guilty as I possibly can.”

“Very bold of you to assume I can feel either one of those emotions.”

Henry whines, burying his face in his friend’s shoulder, groaning as his hair is played with. This whole day’s been absolutely rubbish, from start to finish. Waking up sluggish and freezing cold, trembling with a headache as the day progressed, and being rushed to the hospital for repeated fainting and stabbing pains in his chest was definitely not on his to-do list.   
  


“I want to _go home_.” He says, sounding rather pitiful, sighing when he feels Alex’s lips drag across the back of his hand.   
  


“I know, sweetheart. We’ll be home before you know it, promise.” Alex swears up and down, pausing as he checks his phone. “Shaan’s upset that nobody told him anything right away. Said he’s about to come up to see you.”

“Fantastic.” He huffs. “A lecture on irresponsibility; just what I desired.”

“He’s not going to lecture you, he knows that you don’t feel well.” Pez claims, combing his fingers through Henry’s hair. “You need a nap, you fussy thing.”

“I’m not going to argue with you on that— I’m bloody exhausted.” He replies. “Stayed up late last night working on budgeting for the shelter and editing my manuscript, then, well, today happened.” He comments. “Alex, love, go get a cup of coffee.”

“I’m not getting you coffee when you’re fainting and having chest pains.”

“For _yourself_ , you numpty. You’re doing the bouncy-leg thing.” He points out, eyes shut as he tries to keep his breathing level.

“How do you know that?”

“I can bloody _feel_ it. Go take a walk, get a drink, do something. I’m not going anywhere.”  
  


“I don’t need to—“

“Alex, I can take it from here, darling.” Pez supplies, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder. “Go get some fresh air. You've reached your limit for the day, we all have. It’s okay to tap out when you need it.”

It’s quiet, then Alexander sighs, leaning in to his Henry on the cheek. 

“I’ll be back in ten minutes. Love you.”

“Mhm.” Henry replies, lips turning up into a mischievous smile.

“Wow, you’re just not gonna say that you love me back? I see you, Henry.”

“God, you’re right dramatic, aren’t you?” He questions playfully, sitting up a bit too fast, blinking hard as he tries to dispel his nausea and the dark, fussy spots from his eyes. He places his face his hands, pressing the ends of his palms against his eyes as he inhales and exhales, completely forgetting what he was about to say or do. 

“What’s wrong?” Alex immediately asks, swapping his playful attitude for a deadly serious one.

“Gonna be sick—“

“Percy, the trash can—“

Pez manages to get it just under Henry’s mouth as he vomits, shoulders shaking as he heaves and retches into the bin. He looks awful like this, face even paler than usual and flushed dark red, black circles around his eyes with his arms wrapped around his huddled frame for warmth. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Henry this sick before.

Henry can hear Alex shushing him, can feel his hand on his back, strong and firm. The smell of his own vomit does nothing to help with the inherent nauseous sensation. His throat is burning, and his eyes are stinging with tears. With each intake of breath, he’s gagging, his stomach contracting. He’s cold, he’s tired, and he just wants Alex to take care of him at home.

“Shh, shh. Don’t cry,” Alex coos, pulling Henry into his arms when he’s finished, rubbing circles into his back. It’s a little awkward, with him hunched over his chair to accommodate for their distance, but it’s obvious in his eyes that Henry needs to be comforted more than anything else. “Don’t cry, baby. It’ll just make it worse.” 

Pez makes a point out of not touching Henry as he weeps, his friend’s sniffles and sobs making his heart sink. Sure, he knows how to raise spirits, but his bedside manner is truly terrible; he doesn’t know how to take care of people when they’re unwell; he can barely take care of himself on a good day. So, he gives him his privacy, lets him have his space— moves the rubbish bin out of the way, but keeps it close by. Just in case.

The moment Shaan enters the door is the most grateful Alexander has ever been in his entire life. For once, the man is not perfectly poised and put together; his suit is missing its jacket, his hair and shirt are completely disheveled, and his hands are full— one clutching a to-go coffee holder, the other clutching what one can only assume is an overnight hospital bag. He looks quite a bit peeved, but he instantly softens when he sees his charge curled into Alex, crying. He passes Pez and Alex their drinks, setting Henry’s water down on one of the little end tables. The bag is swapped to the other hand, and he scrubs over his face, stressed.  
  


 _Join the club, buddy_ , Alex thinks, not bitter, but definitely exhausted.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” He says instead, expressing his gratitude. “He’s— well— he’s not doing so well right now.” He explains softly, knowing that Henry’s head must be just killing him by now. “They think he’s anemic, and he’s on iron, but they don’t know for certain if that’s the only issue. They’re running tests right now.”

Shaan nods, waiting until Henry calms down to speak.   
  


“Your Highness, it would seem that we have much to discuss.” He starts, suppressing a grimace when his charge brings his face up to properly look at him. He looks ghastly, like some sort of spirit, or perhaps a small animal abandoned in the freezing rain. “Though I suppose that you would like to brush your teeth and change into more comfortable attire beforehand. Am I correct in this assumption?” He asks, holding his hands out to Henry when he nods, hoisting him up and keeping him steady as they trudge into the restroom, shutting the door behind them.

Three times.

That’s how many times Henry brushes his teeth, trying to scrub and scour the taste of bile from his mouth. He would rather be ill with the nastiest, longest cold than do that again, and he’s certain of that. He contemplates brushing them a fourth time, but he figures that would be a bit of an overkill.

“Mister Claremont-Diaz told me that you were feeling cold, so I brought some warmer clothes along with me.” Shaan pipes up whilst he’s hunched over the mirror, and Henry can see in the mirror’s reflection that he’s found a jumper and some sweatpants.

Shaan helps him out of the shirt and into the jumper, just so the fabric doesn’t snag on the IV. During which, they discuss the plans Henry had coming up before this impromptu visit. They come to the conclusion that he’ll push his schedule back three to seven days, depending on how quickly he’s able to recover.

“I trust that you can take it from here?” Shaan asks, and Henry snorts.

“Yes, you can wait just outside the door. It seems I’ve taken to fainting if I bolt up too quickly.” He explains, not missing the way Shaan’s face quickly contorts, then corrects itself.   
  


He finishes getting dressed, rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, and because his mouth is still warm and acidic, brushes his teeth a final time. He hears the end of a conversation, a muffled ‘ _thank you so much’_ , followed by ‘ _yes, we’ll be sure to do that’_ , ending with a ‘ _have a wonderful evening_ ’. He steps out of the restroom, then, looking around.

“Did the doctor stop by again?” He asks.

“Yeah— you officially fall on the same wavelength as a wee Victorian babe.” Pez declares, grinning cheekily at him.

“Well, we already _knew_ that,” Henry reminds him, thanking Shaan when he’s passed a cup of water, sipping from it, standing for a moment, hoping that it might make him feel better. “If someone could elaborate, that would be lovely.”

“Babe, how long have you been feelin’ like this?” Alex asks, sounding a bit awestruck. “Because the doctor says that she’s completely shocked that we ‘waited so long to come in’.”

Henry shrugs. “I’ve been feeling iffy for about a week, bad for maybe three days. Why, what’s wrong?” He asks, feeling just a bit defensive.

“According to what you just said, we should’ve been here three days ago.” Alex claims, voice soft, but scolding. “It’s nothing bad, you’re just anemic, but it’s really severe.” He explains.

“How severe?”  
  


“Well, Your Highness, the normal hemoglobin count is anywhere from eleven to eighteen grams per deciliter.” Shaan supplies, looking down at his phone.

“What’s my count?” He asks.

“Guess.” Pez snickers. “It’s quite ridiculous, really.”  
  


“I don’t know, ten? Nine, maybe?” He guesses, taking another sip from his water.

“It was six.” Alex tells him, eyes widening when Henry chokes on his water, watching Pez beat him on the back until he calms down. 

“ _Six?_ ” He replies, dumbfounded.

“That’s how I said it.” Alex confirms, nodding his head, his laughter a stressed tittering sound. “You need to talk to me when you feel bad, sweetheart, so we can prevent these situations from happening.” He continues, wearing that mask of seriousness again. 

Henry can see past it, can see the nerves and compassion and desperate want to help there. Shaan looks tired. Pez looks uncomfortable.

“I will,” He assures all of them. He hadn't wanted to worried them, was completely certain up until today that he only had a bad cold. Turns out, worrying them was pretty much unavoidable. “I’m sorry for making you all panic over me.” He apologizes.

“Don’t be sorry— the two of us have probably shaved ten years off your life with all the shit we do.” Alex replies, gesturing between himself and Pez. 

Henry nods dramatically. “ _Christ_ , between you going the whole day on coffee and caffeine pills, and this one getting in fights after classes at Eton, I’ll be lucky if I make it to sixty.” He laughs, and Alex rolls his eyes.

“That was, like, a month ago.” He claims, smiling as he folds his arms over his chest.

“The fact that it even happened is the problem, love.” He retorts. “You were practically buzzing.”

“I, for one, don’t regret a single fight I got into at Eton.” Pez chimes in. “And might I remind you that you were always ready jump in when I was down?” He asks, brow arching in a high curve.

“Good thing you never went down.” Henry mumbles beneath his breath, before turning to Shaan. “What’s treatment looking like?”

“We get you home, then I pick up your prescription for iron supplements.” Shaan replies. “You _rest_. No pushing yourself, or leaving the home if you feel unwell. They’re sending a nurse right now to remove the intravenous tube.”

“Oh, thank _goodness_.” He breathes, plopping down in his seat, making Alexander chuckle.

“I didn’t know until today that you hate needles so much.” Alex points out, wrapping an arm around Henry’s waist.

“They’re the absolute bloody _worst_ —“ He decrees, beginning a long, blown-out tangent that vividly describes his distaste for needles.

Eventually, a nurse does come by and remove the damned thing from his wrist. Leaning heavily on Alex and holding onto Pez for support, he’s able to get out the front doors.

Free at last, after breathing in hours upon hours of overly-sterile, stale air. 

Alex gives Shaan the keys, and Pez takes shotgun so that Henry can rest with him in the backseat. He helps him sit down, makes sure he’s buckled in properly, then lets Henry lay on him. They seem to have finally reached that blissful point after their storm, where everyone is tired and raw, but happy that it’s all over and done with. He can see it in the others, feel it in himself; his shoulders aren’t sagging anymore, and the weight on his chest is gone. It just feels right, Henry resting with his eyes closed and his head on his shoulder, trying to make up for every second of sleep that he lost. It’s precious, something with a transcendental, radiant sort of beauty. Something oddly pure, given their circumstances. Pez is listening to music on his phone, looking out the window at the shining lights of Brooklyn skyscrapers. Shaan’s finally relaxed his face for the first time since arriving at the hospital— Alex was worried that it was going to stick, that he would forever look like a deer caught in the headlights. He wants to laugh now, looking back on it.

Henry, in his dazed, drained, bone-weary state, can hear Alexander start to sing underneath his breath. It’s nothing familiar, not even in English, but it’s hauntingly, breathtakingly beautiful. He’s gotten into the habit of doing this lately— singing when he thinks nobody can hear him. It’s endearing, really. He feels Alex’s hand on his waist, warm and steady as he inhales and exhales. A kiss to his hair, then to his temple. 

He doesn’t feel well now, but he will soon.

He lets the brain fog take over, drifting off to the musical cadence of Alex’s voice as one song ends and another begins.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: bi-disaster-fsotus


End file.
